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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183810">Choice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten'>Kirsten</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last Kingdom (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Child Death, Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Love, Peace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:42:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago, Hild made a choice. She lives with the consequences.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hild &amp; Uhtred of Bebbanburg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The number of children in Coccham seemed to grow by the month, or the week, and not by the year, as would have been more reasonable. Uhtred was a good and protective lord, Hild knew, a strong defender of his estate and his tenants. And that was why more and more people arrived in Coccham from other parts of Wessex, why they settled, why they built their lives there. </p><p>The increase in children meant a corresponding increase in the volume of laughter in the village… and in the level of mischief that occurred. Hild noticed it whenever she returned from Winchester. Habits removed from the washline and hung out to dry on the fence, a terrible mooing in the night that had her poor sisters thinking the cows had run loose. On one occasion, turnips were stolen from the nunnery gardens, a theft carried out with child-like humour that went unnoticed until the harvest, for the cunning criminals had sliced off the turnip tops and replaced them in the ground. Hild had not mentioned it to Uhtred, as he had no tolerance for thievery, but the giggles she had heard while pulling up useless and rotting turnip tops had sorely tested her patience and at the same time made her smile.</p><p>And now there was yet another child in the village, a dark-haired boy who looked like Alfred, who shadowed Finan wherever he went and tried to trip him up at every opportunity. She had thought him another of Alfred’s bastards at first, before she remembered that the King was dead.</p><p>“He is Aethelstan,” Uhtred had whispered to her when she asked him. “Edward’s firstborn son. You cannot breathe a word of his presence here to anyone.”</p><p>“I will not,” she said, taken aback, for if the boy were under Uhtred’s protection it could mean only that his birth was indeed legitimate and that his life was in grave danger. “What oath have you sworn to Alfred’s family now?” she asked Uhtred, for oaths had always been his most unfortunate habit.</p><p>“I have sworn no oath,” Uhtred said.</p><p>His tone was defensive, and Hild smiled at him, for she knew he had sworn an oath to himself if not to a Saxon king or his heir. “But he is just a child,” she said. “You will never abandon him,” she added, and Uhtred had sighed and nodded, and she had patted his hand in commiseration.</p><p>A new band of warriors had arrived in Coccham last night, a motley band of three Danes and four Saxons seeking reputation, and wealth if they could get it. They were the kind of men attracted to service in Lord Uhtred’s company, and Uhtred had spoken to them one by one before pronouncing himself satisfied. But he had left them to Finan’s watchful eye, and that morning Finan had set them to drills with Uhtred’s more established men. They sparred away from the village proper but still within Coccham’s walls, and Hild could hear their swords clash from the nunnery. She went out to watch, pulled by a nostalgia for her own time under the sword and by a desire to assess Uhtred’s new men, for she knew Uhtred would welcome her opinion and she would not like him to ride into battle with weak and dishonest souls.</p><p>Years ago, Uhtred and Finan and Sihtric and other men from the village had helped her build a low stone wall around her nunnery, and that was where she sat. The new men were strong and skilful, though they could not surpass Uhtred’s men. Finan would not be happy with that, and nor would Uhtred – but it was nothing practice would not solve.</p><p>Aethelstan was there, of course. He hung on Finan’s every word, attempted to copy his movements even though he held no weapon. But he tripped over his feet and fell down to the ground, and he rolled head over heels until he landed at Finan’s feet.</p><p>“There’s no hope for you, I swear to God,” Finan said with a rueful shake of his head, but Hild could tell he held back a smile.</p><p>“You have to teach me how to be a warrior,” Aethelstan said from the ground. “My father said so.”</p><p>Finan rolled his eyes. “Get up, then,” he said, and he handed Aethelstan a wooden staff. Aethelstan beamed at him. Finan took a staff himself and left Sihtric to drill the men, and then Finan began schooling Aethelstan in earnest. It was not long before the air was filled with Aethelstan’s yelps and ouches, and Hild could not help but laugh.</p><p>Uhtred sat down beside her. “How does he fair?”</p><p>“It is his first time with a staff, how do you think?” she answered, and Uhtred laughed. “The rest are strong, but they need work,” she said.</p><p>“As do we all, Abbess Hild,” he said, and bumped her shoulder with his own.</p><p>A few other children joined Aethelstan, one or two girls amongst them, Hild was not sure she was pleased to notice. Finan gave them all training staffs, too, and arranged them into pairs, but it was not long before Aethelstan set them all to attacking Finan, who was forced to defend himself against six of the little terrors.</p><p>“You traitor!” he shouted at Aethelstan, who laughed and shamelessly aimed a strike at his ankles.</p><p>Hild chuckled, as did Uhtred, and then Uhtred took her hand. His expression was wistful, and his gaze was no longer focused on Aethelstan and Finan. He looked far beyond them, beyond the trees and Coccham’s walls, beyond the river. He looked to happier times, she thought, with Gisela and his own children.</p><p>“You could marry again,” she said quietly. “You could have more children.”</p><p>“I could not,” he said, and that was that. She would not presume to argue with his choice.</p><p>A long time ago, Hild had said goodbye to her own child. It was how she had first come to Christ, when all seemed lost and she was wracked with fear. How could she live without her child? What was she, without her boy? The loss had settled deep in her bones and her body ached with it. She had felt as if her chest would tear apart. But in time, God had shown her the way, and she thought she had found her path to peace.</p><p>“Be sure, Hild,” Abbess Audrey had warned her, before she swore her oath. “A child is a blessing from God. To take these vows is to turn away from that blessing in service to Him and to others. It brings greater pain,” the abbess added, with the weight of her experience, “as the years pass.”</p><p>Hild had smiled, confident in her youth and her peace after grief. “I have already been blessed,” she said, and she made her vows with an open heart.</p><p>Now, Hild knew that Abbess Audrey had been right. It was not regret, precisely, that had grown within her through the years, but it was a kind of grief, soft and gentle and constant in its nature, for the children that she would never birth, and never hold, and never know.</p><p>“You could marry, too,” Uhtred said to her now. He kissed her hand. “God would forgive you for abandoning him. You could have another child,” he said, and she should have known that he had guessed her secret pain from all those years ago. Only one who had suffered that grief could see it in another.</p><p>She grasped his hand in both of hers. “I could not,” she said, an echo of his words, for she knew her time had long since passed.</p>
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